Graduation Day
by Todash
Summary: Very post-war. Erin’s high-school graduation sets the stage for an emotional reunion. Slash content, B.J./Hawkeye.


**Graduation Day**

The first thing B.J. thought was, _God, he looks good._ Right on the heels of that thought was, _But he's too thin. I think he's actually lost weight. Is that even possible? _ He held out his hand and Hawkeye shook it. "I'm glad you came. It was important to Erin that you be here for this."

"I love Erin like my own. She asked me to be at her graduation; I couldn't say no."

B.J. looked out over the sea of parents and other relatives and shook his head a little. "Graduating from high school already… she's practically a woman. Where did the years go?" He looked back at Hawkeye. "She wants to be a nurse. Did she tell you?"

"She did."

A silence crept in, and it was excruciatingly uncomfortable. B.J. hated feeling ill at ease with this man. It didn't make any sense to him. He'd been closer to Hawkeye than to any other person in his entire life. He'd made an instant connection with him the second they met, all those years ago, on Korean soil. They'd been best friends—inseparable—throughout that endless war. They'd shared a home in Mill Valley for eight years, shared a bed for longer. Now they were acting like total strangers.

They'd broken up nearly six years ago. A bad breakup? You could say that: they hadn't spoken since. Not a single word. Until today, Erin's graduation day, because she had practically begged Hawkeye to be here. She'd kept in touch with him even though her father hadn't. She phoned him and wrote him often, even visited him in Maine every couple years. She still sometimes called him "Daddy Hawk."

B.J. ran his eyes over the other man again, and decided to say what he was thinking. "You look really good."

A flash of something crossed Hawkeye's face; B.J. knew his tone had been awfully close to flirtatious. He couldn't help it. His first sight of Hawkeye Pierce in six years, and all the memories that were flooding back were the good ones, not the painful ones. Their happiest Christmas together, when Erin was 7 and they flew back to Crabapple Cove to be with Hawk's dad. There was a lot of snow and they spent Christmas afternoon building snowmen and pulling Erin on the sled. Or the trip to Hawaii that the two men had taken in '55. Day after day spent lounging on the beach, endless nights of making love while they listened to the ocean outside their hotel window. Or just the many lazy Sundays they spent hanging out at home, entangled on the couch while they both read, smiling at each other when Erin would roll her eyes and say they were "too lovey dovey."

B.J. blinked, trying to cast away the vivid memories, and since Hawkeye wasn't saying anything, he went on, "I know we haven't talked or written or anything, but I have thought about you. A lot. Sometimes I wished I had the courage to pick up the phone and call you." He ventured a smile. "So I guess I should thank Erin for this, for getting you here today."

Hawkeye put a hand up, a gesture that clearly meant "whoa, back off, there." B.J. abruptly stopped talking, the smile fading away. "B.J.," Hawkeye began, but then strangely enough, he didn't continue.

"Doesn't it seem stupid? That we didn't talk to each other for so long?" B.J. was still trying, still pulling at strings, searching for just the right one that might unravel the tension. "In that whole time, didn't you wonder what the hell happened? What went so bad we couldn't find some way to fix it?"

"Stop," Hawk said, his voice uncharacteristically hard. "There's no point in having this conversation."

"But don't you—"

"B.J.—"

With an almost violent shake of his head, B.J. demanded, "Why do you keep calling me that? You _never_ call me that!"

Hawkeye looked suddenly very tired. "You don't really want to rehash all this, do you? What's going on here?"

B.J. felt tears filling his eyes, but he swore to himself he wouldn't let them fall. He looked at Hawkeye with despair in his heart, and he was sure it showed on his face. "There's been no one since you," he said softly. "I don't just mean that I haven't been in love since you. I haven't slept with anyone since you. Haven't even had a date. God, haven't even been remotely _interested_ in dating."

If Hawkeye was shocked, he didn't show it. After a moment, he said, "Get on with your life, B.J."

Holding out his hand, palm up, as though offering something, B.J. replied, "So that's it? There's nothing I can say?"

Hawkeye sighed, annoyance apparent on his face. "It seems you've got some selective amnesia. Let me refresh your memory. You hated the way people stared at us, the way they whispered. You couldn't stand hearing the words 'queer' and 'sick.' You started to resent me—don't deny it. We agreed it wasn't working."

"But it worked for a long time. And maybe it could again—"

"B.J., I'm getting married."

B.J. flinched, his stomach dropping to his feet and even further down, if that was possible. "What?"

"I'm getting married in the fall. I didn't bring Susan with me today because it would have been… awkward. But we're very happy…" he trailed off.

B.J. nodded, still willing back the tears. "I see," he said. He was thrown, dazed… his head was spinning and he felt like the earth had shifted violently off its axis. But he tried not to let any of it show.

"I'm going to take my seat," Hawkeye said, turning to leave, and B.J., in pure desperation now, in total agony, reached out and grabbed his arm and turned him back around.

"There's nobody on this earth more perfect for me than you." His voice broke as he said it, but he managed to get the words out.

Hawkeye only looked at him in silence for a second, then walked away to take his seat. B.J. didn't move for a long time.

_

* * *

I must be a glutton for punishment,_ B.J. thought as he ran to catch up with Hawkeye after the ceremony had ended.

"Hawkeye, wait!" he called, and to his surprise, the other man actually did stop and turn around. "I wanted to apologize," he said when he reached Hawk. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved earlier. And I also wanted to say congratulations on your upcoming marriage."

Hawkeye stood there digesting the words as B.J., his heart hammering, waited for the reaction, the resolution. "Thank you," came the formal, almost stiff reply, and in that instant, B.J. knew with absolute certainty that there was no repairing this. Not ever. He would go his way and Hawk would go his. And never the twain shall meet.

_Rudyard Kipling,_ he thought… and his heart had never ached more than it did at that moment.

He held out his hand and said, "Take care, Hawkeye. Thanks for coming."

Nodding, Hawkeye shook B.J.'s hand. With the contact, something seemed to change in Hawkeye's manner. His shoulders relaxed, his expression softened. With a faint, sad smile, he said, "There's nobody on this earth more perfect for me than you."

Then he turned and walked away.


End file.
